Page 69 of Husband Material
“I’d love to,” said the police officer, with a slightly apologetic tone to her voice. “But the problem is that not only did you break into somebody’s house—”
“We didn’t break in. There was a key under the mat.”
“Still counts as breaking in. But then you also said that you were in the area because you were guests at one of the most exclusive society events the northwest has seen in years, and that means your whole case has been kicked up the chain.”
That didn’t sound good. “Kicked up the chain?”
She made an afraid-so face. “The Twaddle-Fortescue-Lettice wedding is a big deal. Security alone is dragging in Coombe Valley police, Merseyside Police, and the Northwest Motorway Police… It’s a big job.”
“Which means?”
“Which means we need to make sure you and your friends aren’t planning something…disruptive.”
“Disruptive?”
“People do all kinds of funny things at society weddings.”
I let my head fall forward onto the desk. “Can you not just call Alex or Miffy? They’ll tell you who we are.” Probably. Although Alex was never completely reliable when it came to remembering little things like who people were, what day it was, or what was going on.
“Sorry,” she said. “Out of my hands.”
I went back to…it wasn’t a cell exactly because we weren’t strictly under arrest. It was more a kind of waiting room. There Oliver was busy having an in-depth conversation with somebody who looked like they were important, and since he was an actual proper lawyer, I figured he knew what he was doing, so I wentand sat with the rest of the party. More specifically, I went and sat with Barbara Clench.
“Hi,” I said.
She looked at me. “Hello.”
“I…” That was as far as I got.
“You don’t have to like me, Luc,” she said.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. My initial instinct wasgood because I don’t, but that sounded dickish even to me. “It’s not…” I tried, but that seemed insincere. “I mean, I don’t not… You didn’t invite me to your wedding.”
Barbara Clench gave me a look. “I was married when we met.”
“Okay, but you wouldn’t have invited me.”
For a moment she didn’t reply. Then she laughed. She had quite a nice laugh, just cold enough to sound like she meant it. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” She looked around the room, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t invite any of this lot, to tell you the truth.”
“I know, right?”
“And if I’m being really honest,” she added, “I don’t think I’d want to go to your wedding either.”
I breathed one of the deepest sighs of relief I had in a long time. “Oh, thank God. No offence, it’s just…”
“We’re not friends,” she said with an at-last-somebody-gets-it expression. “I’ve got friends. I assume you’ve got friends. I don’t see why we can’t just accept that the only thing we have in common with each other is that our inadequate paycheques are signed by the same people.”
“Exactly.” This was actually turning into one of my better work conversations. “Tell you what, how about we make a deal. I won’t invite you to my wedding, and in return, you don’t have to tell me anything about your life or give a single shit about mine.”
She held out a hand. “Done.”
I shook it and did my best to smile at her.
“But I don’t hate you,” she added.
“I don’t hate you either.”
She let go of my hand. “And…let’s leave it at that.”
